


A Roommate for Christmas

by justdk



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 15:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Hard working Adam Parrish discovers that his roommate is the insanely talented and ridiculously wealthy Ronan Lynch. They have nothing in common and avoid each other all semester until one emotional breakdown spills their secrets to the surface.





	A Roommate for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift to @come-hell-or-highwater for the Pynch Secret Santa 2017 Exchange. I had way too much fun writing this! <3

Adam was fairly certain that Ronan Lynch hated him. They had been roommates for two months and so far their longest conversation had been over choosing their preferred side of their tiny dorm room. Since then Adam had gotten only brief, practically monosyllabic greetings, probably due in part to Ronan’s constant accessory of expensive Beats headphones which, presumably, were continually pumping music in his ears. Ronan would come back at all hours, drop something off, pick something up, change clothes, brush his teeth, or shave down his perpetually buzzed scalp. He was always coming and going, stopping only to sleep, and that was just on rare occasions.

It wasn’t like Adam was in the room all the time. He was double majoring in art (with a focus in illustration) and architecture, as well as working as a student assistant to one of his art professors. Between the job, the long studio hours, studying at the library, and classes, Adam’s free time was limited. But – he hated to admit it – if he did have down time he was in the room, sketching or reading or sleeping. Certainly not waiting around to see if Ronan would make a chance appearance.

Ronan was Adam’s third college roommate. His freshman year he had been paired up with some dude bro who spent all of his time at his boyfriend’s off-campus apartment. That was before he got mono and had to drop out near the end of their first semester. Adam never saw him after that but, since the guy had paid for his room through the end of the school year, it meant that Adam got to have the room to himself for his entire second semester and through his May and summer terms. It had spoiled him.

Sophomore year he roomed with Tad Carruthers. Adam had no idea why Tad was living in the dorms when he was, apparently, extremely rich. Perhaps it was cosmic punishment, balancing out the scales of his relatively drama free first year. Tad was annoying, clingy, oblivious, and very clearly infatuated with Adam. Living with Tad became so unbearable that Adam all but moved out, sleeping on one of the couches in the studio, sneaking back to the dorms to shower and grab clothes and supplies from his room. He could have complained, could have gotten a new roommate, but Adam suspected that by so obviously slighting Tad he would only bring more trouble into his life.

This was why, when Adam submitted his housing application for junior year, he specified that he was willing to live with anyone  _except_ Tad Carruthers. He underlined Tad’s name twice and thought about highlighting it just so the admins were totally clear on where he stood. Sadly, Adam had not managed to make any real friends that he would be willing to live with. He liked Blue, who he had met in his sophomore year ceramics class, but that was part of the problem. He liked her too much to risk living with her. The rest of his classmates were cool but the vibe between them was too competitive; Adam never felt like he could relax around them so in the end he left his housing situation to the whims of fate.

Fate gave him Ronan Lynch. Adam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Ronan was… _legendary_. His entire family was legendary. His father, Niall Lynch, was a renowned art collector and sat on the board of trustees of the college. Ronan’s mother, Aurora, was famous for her work in ceramics and had shows in galleries all over the world. Declan Lynch, the only non-artist of the set, was a senior in the business school, specializing in new ways to keep the family and their investments thriving. And to help with their many charities, of course. Matthew Lynch was something of an oddity. He was a freshman and it seemed like he would be pursuing either game design or animation. Everyone on campus knew him as the king of the geeks because he was always cosplaying as anime or video game characters. Adam thought that his true calling lay in wardrobe design but who was he to suggest this to his mercurial roommate?

Ronan, a junior like Adam, did not have an area of focus but he was always creating. Adam had seen his work in the studio and displayed at end of the year exhibits and Ronan’s talent was daunting. He made exquisite sculptures, haunting paintings, and installations that made you feel like you had entered another world. About the only thing that he didn’t do, as far as Adam knew, was digital art. All of his work had a common theme: an exploration of the uncanny. One of Adam’s favorite pieces was the life size sculpture of a little girl who had the legs and hooves a goat. And yet, despite the whimsy and innocence of the sculpture – and the others in the series entitled _Cabeswater_ – some of Ronan’s paintings were terrifying, dark, and gory glimpses into nightmarish landscapes. Taking in the entire body of Ronan’s creative output had left Adam even more confused about the guy he shared living space with. Who was Ronan Lynch? How could he have horrors and wonders existing simultaneously within him?

Two months into their junior year and Adam knew nothing more about Ronan than he had before they lived together. Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. Adam knew that Ronan could sleep for twelve hours straight without moving a muscle and barely breathing. He also knew that other than these periods of intense hibernation Ronan appeared to be a high functioning insomniac. He knew Ronan only wore black: T-shirts, leather jacket, ripped jeans, boots, briefs. Ronan would turn up at 3am or whenever the fuck he felt the need to sleep, strip down to his briefs, and pass out on the top bunk with the covers pulled up over his head, leaving a pile of clothes that were usually covered in paint or clay to languish on the floor for weeks.

Sanitation. Not one of Ronan’s strong points. The clothes piled up and up and up. The bed was never made and Adam didn’t think the sheets had been changed since they moved in. The towels in the corner had begun to grow an ecosystem and Adam had to Febreze them on a regular basis to keep the smell under control. But at least Ronan showered regularly and brushed his teeth. Still, he was giving Ronan until the end of the week to get the laundry situation under control or Adam was pitching all of his junk out of the window.

What else? Ah, yes, the bagpipes. That was a thing. Because Ronan Lynch couldn’t just be rich, gorgeous, and artistically talented, he also had to be a musician, the bastard. But bagpipes? It was a small comfort that Ronan did not practice in the dorm but sometimes, when Adam was hurrying across campus, he would hear a mournful trill of notes drifting from the mediation circle and he _knew_ it was Ronan. For some reason hearing the pipes always made his heart clench up and there was this tug that came from his gut that made him want to swerve off his path and search out Ronan until he found him. Which was madness, of course.

Ronan, not content with mastering one form of music, also had an impressive collection of instruments jammed into his closet along with his all black wardrobe. There were guitars and other stringed instruments, a few portable drums, a tambourine (Adam would pay good money to see Ronan play a tambourine), flutes and pipes and whistles. Sometimes Ronan would run in, one of his disreputable friends trailing behind him, plunder his closet for an instrument, and rush out, leaving Adam feeling a sting of longing and sadness because he had not been invited to whatever concert or jam session was happening.

Ronan’s friends were another point of envy. It wasn’t that he was swimming in admirers like Declan, but he had a loyal group of peers that he spent all of his time with. Richard Campbell Gansey III was Ronan’s best friend and he was so posh and polished that Adam didn’t believe that he was real. Where Ronan went Gansey was sure to be there and vice versa **.** Gansey’s crowd included the lovely Blue and two other boys that Adam didn’t know as they were enrolled in other departments. Then there were Ronan’s _other_ friends, if “friends” was the right term for them. They all had a hungry, dangerous vibe and when Ronan went out with them Adam would stay up all night worrying until Ronan came back or until he saw him again somewhere on campus.

In short, the world had smiled on Ronan – given him a host of blessings – and Adam felt the disparity between them like a knife in his guts. He was from a poor, rural upbringing. He had gone to a subpar public school without an art program and it was only through rigorous self-education, practice, and hard work that he had been accepted to St. Catherine’s University and School of the Arts. He was a scholarship kid with a host of loans and a job, yet he still had barely enough funds to purchase art supplies and keep himself fed and clothed. It was no wonder that Ronan never had any time for him, that he never bothered to try to get to know him. What was Adam Parrish to someone like Ronan Lynch?

—–

Adam was stuck. His final piece for his illustration portfolio was due at the end of the week and no matter how much time he spent brainstorming he couldn’t come up with an idea that he liked. In general he wasn’t the most imaginative artist. He liked illustration and architecture because he enjoyed drawing reality. It was what he hoped to do after college, work in an architectural firm or, if that didn’t work out, do commercial illustration for things like textbooks or instruction manuals. Sure, it wasn’t as exciting as doing whatever it was that Ronan did, but it was marketable.

He drummed his pencil against his sketchbook and stared out the window of his dorm room. The trees were bare and the sidewalks were wet from the snow that had already melted away. Adam breathed on the window and drew random shapes in the condensation. Christmas break was rapidly approaching and soon the campus would be empty. Usually he looked forward to having the dorms to himself but this year… this year he was feeling lonely. Two and a half years at St. Catherine’s and still he had no one to go home with.

Adam was in the midst of gnawing on his pencil, legs propped up on his desk, when Ronan burst into the room. Adam nearly fell out of his chair in surprise because 1) Ronan was here in the afternoon, 2) he was alone, and 3) he was wearing an extremely cute blue cable knit sweater that made his eyes pop like _whoa_. Ronan flung his messenger bag and large portfolio folder onto the floor, ripped off the sweater and his T-shirt, balled his hands into fists and yelled, at the top of his lungs, “FUCKKKKKK!!!” before crumpling to his knees.

Adam kept as still as possible, hoping that if he didn’t move or breath Ronan wouldn’t notice him. But then Ronan _did_ notice him.

“Oh shit,” Ronan gasped, hands braced on his knees, his expression wrecked, “uhh sorry, Parrish, I didn’t realize… I thought…”

“No, it’s fine, don’t apologize,” Adam stammered. He got up and hastily tried to gather his things. “I’ll, umm, just go. You can have the room so… yeah.” He shoved his sketchbook into his worn book bag and pulled on the heavy winter coat he had purchased three years ago. He skirted around the bed, around Ronan who was sitting hunched over, head in his hands. Adam paused, hand on the door, transfixed by the tattoos on Ronan’s back. He had caught glimpses of them before, when Ronan changed, but this was the first time he had seen them in all the their glory. They were breathtakingly gorgeous. “Will you be alright?” he asked, voice soft.

Ronan sat up and wiped his face; Adam wasn’t sure if he had been crying or not.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Ronan muttered. “You don’t- you don’t have to leave, man. This is your room, too.”

“No, it’s okay,” Adam answered, waving him off. “I need some fresh air. Inspiration isn’t striking so I should get out, move around.” Although he was keeping his cool, inwardly he was freaking out. Were he and Ronan actually talking?!

Ronan moved so his back was resting on the door to the closet, giving Adam a great view of his torso. How was it possible for Ronan to have muscle like that when he was the unhealthy artistic type? Then again, Adam had no clue what he did most of the time. Maybe he was secretly a gym rat.

“You know, if I’m having a tough time with a project I go to the chapel,” Ronan said. He pulled one of his feet onto his thigh and started the task of unlacing his boots. “Try sitting in the choir loft. The light should be good this time of day, coming in through the stained glass windows. And quiet, too. All the choral students have finished their holiday concerts and recitals.” Ronan worked his boot off and started on the next one.

“Oh. Yeah. Th-thanks.” Adam felt his ears getting hot and he scrubbed at his hair, wishing it was long enough to hide the blush. “So, I’ll just go then. And check out the chapel. Bye.”

He fled the room, catching a brief look of Ronan’s bemused face before pulling the door closed.

Somehow he made it across campus to the old stone chapel. Adam, not a believer, had never been inside. He tried the front door and was surprised to find it unlocked. He crept into the dimly light foyer, smelling incense and candle wax and the piney scent of evergreen needles. The sanctuary was actually lovely, with frescos along the walls detailing Stations of the Cross (Adam read that on a placard) and an enormous mural behind the pulpit showing the risen Christ ascending into heaven surrounded by a host of angels. The windows had elaborate scenes from the Bible done in vibrant glass and even without knowing the stories Adam still appreciated the art.

He found the stairs that led to the choir loft, a tight spiral leading up and up. He felt a bit like the phantom of the opera lurking behind the scenes as he settled onto the padded pew. It was warm enough that he took off his jacket. Adam looked around, enjoying the view and the peaceful quietness. Ronan was right; the lighting in the chapel was ethereal. That, plus the lingering sweet smell of incense, lured his racing mind into a sort of trance. But instead of thinking about his assignment he thought about Ronan, hunched over, his expression wracked with despair and pain. What was going on with him? Adam wondered. A bad breakup? Stress? Nervous breakdown? He had to admit that it hurt to see Ronan so upset. And then there were the tattoos. Adam knew about Ronan’s Celtic roots but he hadn’t expected his tattoos to be so informed by this heritage. Wrapped around the beaks and talons, vines and thorns, was Celtic knot work and stylized, eerie beasts that could have been lifted from an illuminated manuscript.

Adam pulled out his sketchpad and started drawing the tattoos, drawing Ronan. As he sketched an idea formed in his mind, something with potential for his final piece. He bent his head and worked furiously.

—–

It was late by the time Adam returned to the room. When the light had failed he had left the chapel and gone straight to the studio, working for countless hours turning his ideas into reality. He had missed lunch and dinner, hadn’t even taken the time to make tea. The vision had possessed him and he couldn’t rest until it was done. Staring at the finished piece under the bright studio lights, exhausted and wired, Adam couldn’t believe that he had drawn it. It was his best work, something completely different from his other drawings. He swallowed, his heart pounding with excitement, his hands shaky. It was his best work and it was 100% inspired by Ronan Lynch.

He was almost afraid to see Ronan again, after spending countless hours drawing him. Well, it wasn’t _him_ , exactly. The resemblance was certainly there but it wasn’t a portrait it was… he didn’t know. _Something._ He dug his keys out of his pocket, went to unlock the door, and discovered it was already unlocked which meant…

Ronan was still there. Adam sucked in a surprised breath, his eyes landing on his roommate who was stretched out on the top bunk, paging through a textbook. It looked like he was studying. He sat up as soon as Adam closed the door. He had, thankfully, put a shirt on but in the meantime he had lost his pants. Adam didn’t know which was more distracting: shirtless Ronan or pantless Ronan.

“Adam,” Ronan grinned down at him, “how did it go?”

Adam squinted up at Ronan, trying to stifle his feelings. Since when were they on first name basis? “Brilliant,” Adam replied, taking off his coat and hanging it in his closet. He tugged off his slip-ons. “Thank you for suggesting the chapel, the atmosphere was exactly what I needed.”

“Good.” Ronan slung his legs off the edge of the bed. Adam tried not to stare. “So you finished?”

“Uh-huh,” Adam buried his head in the closet, pretending to look for a shirt or something. He could feel Ronan’s eyes on him. _What was going on?_

Ronan hopped down from the bed, landing with a loud _thump_. “Can I see it then?”

Adam closed the closet and pressed his back against it, his heart jolting in his chest because Ronan had moved all up in his personal space. And he smelled _really_ good, smoky and a bit like the chapel, pine and incense.

“It’s ah, it’s,” he swallowed, eyes shifting frantically away from Ronan, “you might not like it,” he admitted.

Ronan’s impressive eyebrows quirked up in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

Adam felt like his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. He didn’t know if it was panic or desire. He did know that he was sweating and trembling. Blame it on not eating and nerves and post-creation giddiness. He brushed past Ronan and bent down to retrieve his sketchbook. He kept his eyes fixed on the pages as he rapidly flipped through, keenly aware of Ronan standing at his shoulder, taking in his sketches.

“Don’t get mad,” Adam whispered. Just one more page and Ronan would see. It felt like laying his heart bare. Excruciating.

“I won’t,” Ronan said but Adam didn’t believe him. He turned the page and shoved the sketchbook into Ronan’s hands before hurrying away to hover by his desk. He bit at his fingernails, tasting graphite, the rubber from his erasers, and the stronger, bitter taste of ink that had smeared on his fingertips. He briefly contemplated climbing out the window but they were on the third floor with no fire escape.

He was so caught up in his inner turmoil that he didn’t notice that Ronan had moved to stand next to him, the sketchbook placed on the desk between them. Ronan’s hands, usually so steady, were trembling almost as bad as Adam’s. The drawing seemed to come alive, like it had when Adam had first imagined it: a young man stepping through a wall, a look of pure, radiant joy on his face, his mouth open in song. A raven burst from his chest, as if springing from his heart. Vines and flowers crowed his head, circled his bare shoulders to trail down his arms. He was clothed in light, glorious as an angel. But his hands, held out as if in offering, were red and dripping with gore. Strange, dark creatures slithered around the man’s feet, their forms like shadowy wraiths. It was a vision and a nightmare. And the man wore the face of Ronan Lynch.

There were so many things Adam wanted to say in the vacuum of Ronan’s silence but all he could manage was, “I’m sorry.” He pressed his hands over his face, the words muffled. “I should have asked. I won’t turn it in. I’ll do something else. I’m sor—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Ronan grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face, holding them against his chest, over his rapidly beating heart, and then—he kissed Adam.

Adam felt it like a shock, like the time he had accidentally electrocuted himself while attempting to repair his crappy computer. The feeling surged through him from lips to heart and down, lighting up every part of him. He clutched at Ronan’s shirt and kissed him back. It was a desperate, breathless kiss, as if neither of them were certain of how long it would last and were eager to take as much as they could get. Ronan pushed Adam against the desk, letting his wrists go so he could grip the back of Adam’s neck. Adam tugged so hard at Ronan’s shirt he was afraid he’d rip the fabric, but it was a distant worry. He was much more concerned with Ronan’s teeth nipping at his lip, Ronan’s tongue in his mouth. He had his eyes closed tight, scared to open them and break whatever wonderful spell had been cast on them.

It was the need for oxygen that broke them apart, Ronan still holding onto him, gasping, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes shining.

Adam licked his swollen lips, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“How long?” They both asked at the same time.

Adam almost laughed and Ronan did, a short, flustered laugh that was incredibly cute.

“Since freshman year,” Ronan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. Adam stared at him, feeling like his heart was in freefall. Ronan was being _shy_ , like he could barely stand to look Adam in face. What a world. What a crazy, beautiful world.

“But- but you never said!” Adam exclaimed. “We’ve lived together all semester and you’ve barely talked to me!”

“How could I?” Ronan answered. “We’re roommates! I didn’t want to freak you out. So I thought I’d suffer in silence. At least I still got to be near you even if you hated me.”

“What?” Adam cupped Ronan’s face in his hands, his fingers scraping over the rough stubble on his jaw. “I don’t hate you.”

Ronan sighed. “I get that _now_. But you always acted like I was this huge inconvenience or something. Like, I’d come in and you would practically ignore me or you would leave immediately. I felt like you were looking down on me because, well, I don’t know why. Like I wasn’t good enough or something. It always felt so fucking tense in here, like I couldn’t breathe.”

This time Adam laughed. “That’s because I thought you hated me!” He knocked his forehead against Ronan’s. “Because I’m trailer trash and you’re Ronan Lynch. I figured you didn’t think I was worth your time, that I had nothing to offer.”

Ronan shook his head and slid his hands down to Adam’s waist. “Christ,” he muttered. “I’ve heard of situations like this but I thought they didn’t happen outside of fiction.”

Adam chuckled and felt the tension run out of him, leaving him boneless. He sank onto the desk and his stomach growled loudly, making him flush with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he spluttered as Ronan laughed, “I skipped a couple meals working.”

Ronan picked up the sketchbook again and stared in admiration at the drawing. “You have to use this,” he murmured. “It’s amazing, Adam.”

“Yeah?” Adam clutched at his stomach, which was clenching painfully.

“Yeah. But first, how do you feel about a 3am breakfast? My treat.” Ronan backed up and offered Adam his hand.

“I think I’d like that,” Adam said. “As long as you put on some pants.”

Ronan grinned and plucked at the waistband of his briefs. “You got it. Waffle House?”

“Waffle House,” Adam agreed and planted a quick kiss on Ronan’s jaw.

—–

That winter break, for the first time in years, Adam Parrish had someone to spend the holidays with.

That Christmas, for the first time ever, Ronan Lynch had someone to kiss beneath the mistletoe.

**Author's Note:**

> So guys here's the question: I fell hard for this AU and would love to write more about what's going on with these boys leading up to the end of the semester and then continuing into the spring semester (so like a YEAR of college) - would there be interest in reading that?
> 
> Also... you can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


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